


Bread and Circus

by Golddisaster



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golddisaster/pseuds/Golddisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus Vebbarius has seen his fair share of gladiators, but he hasn't seen any quite like Fernando Alonso.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bread and Circus

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to take a shower, I haven't written lot of smut before. So, uh, yeah! Oh, also a few vocab things! Sorry, it's hard to write gladiator stuff without using technical terms. 
> 
> Thraex- Typical gladiator, armed with a sword and shield.  
> Hoplomachus- Gladiator armed like a Greek foot soldier.  
> "Parvus leō"- "Small lion" or "The little lion".  
> Hispania- Roman name for what would later be Spain.  
> Lanista- An owner of gladiators.  
> Rudarius- A former gladiator, who has earned his freedom.  
> Bestiarius- A beast-fighter.  
> Servus- Servant/slave.  
> Manica- A metal arm guard.  
> "Subsiste!"- "Stop!"
> 
> Also, chapter title from Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" with a few edits since I'm a hack.

A dull roar was ever-present throughout the arena, thousands of voices speaking simultaneously, gossiping about this and that, placing their bets, talking about politics, the air charged with excitement. Mark sat in one of the viewing boxes closest to the arena itself, head resting against his hand, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. 

“Marcus!” Someone called from behind him. Mark sat up, glancing behind his chair to look at whoever had spoken. A young man emerged from the tunnel behind him, blonde, blue-eyed, eager-looking.  
“Sebastian, what took you so long?” Mark asked as Sebastian sat in the chair beside him. 

“I got caught up at the school, something about inventory.” Sebastian replied with a shrug, settling into his seat. 

“Are we missing anything?” Mark asked, brow furrowing with worry. 

“No, we apparently got a shipment of _sicas,_ except we got a shipment last month. Turns out it was supposed to go to Arrivabene.” Sebastian explained, looking around the stadium. Mark nodded, looking forward again, growing somewhat impatient. When was the match going to start? 

“So, what exactly are we doing today?” Sebastian asked, looking at Mark with a raised eyebrow. 

“Looking for some new stock, Adrian says we need fresh blood.” Mark explained, 

“I have my eye on one of the fighters in the next match.” 

“What is he? _Thraex_?” Sebastian asked. 

“Seb, you know we’re up to ours ears in Thracians.” Mark said. The last thing he needed was another temperamental _thrae_ x, he was always paranoid they’d end up with another Spartacus every time the school bought one. 

“Well then, what is he?” Sebastian huffed, somewhat frustrated. 

“A _hoplomachus_. They call him _parvus leō._ ” Mark replied, perking up as he saw the gate on the other side of the arena open. A great roar went up from the crowd as the first gladiator stepped into the ring. The sun glinted off the golden griffon on the _thraex’s_ helmet, a red plume trailing out from behind it, the gladiator’s face hidden behind a mask. Mark certainly understood the appeal behind Thracians, they were extravagant, flashy, and brutal, but a pain in the _gluteus_ to train. Another cheer went up from the crowd as the second gate opened, the other combatant stepping into the ring. Mark leaned over the edge of the viewing box to get a better look at the _hoplomachus_. He was significantly shorter than the _thraex,_ but broad-shouldered, his muscled back crossed with faint, smooth scars. He looked relaxed compared to the _thraex,_ holding his spear and shield easily at his sides. 

“Hm. He doesn’t look Roman.” Sebastian observed, spotting the dark hair under his helmet. Mark nodded in agreement.  
“Greek?” Mark suggested, looking at his skin. Sebastian shook his head. 

“I think he may be from Hispania.” Sebastian said. 

“Hispania?” Mark asked incredulously. He’d never heard of a gladiator from Hispania, but who knew, he’d heard quite a few interesting stories about Spanish fighters from some of his friends in the Legions. A tense hush fell over the arena as the gladiators lined up from each other, eyeing each other through their masked helmets. The _hoplomachus_ turned to face the right side of the ring, Mark following his gaze to look at the viewing box that he was staring at on the side of the ring, positioned directly in the middle of the section, the most extravagant box of them all: the editor’s box, the man who decided the match. Mark couldn’t tell who it was, but he could see his senator’s toga even from where he was, the white fabric with its bold violet fringe unmistakable. 

“We who are about to die salute you!” The gladiator called, sounding almost defiant, voice tinged by an accent unfamiliar to Mark. The senator nodded subtly. 

“Begin!” The editor yelled, voice echoing across the arena. The _thraex_ rushed the _hoplomachus_ immediately with a roar, putting his shield up with the intent to bash the smaller gladiator with it. The _hoplomachus_ darted out of the charging _thraex's_ way narrowly, making the crowd cheer as he took a few paces back, drawing his spear-arm back. The _thraex_ whirled around to face him, only to give the hoplomachus a better target. The small gladiator threw his spear, piercing the _thraex’s_ side as the crowd let out a great roar, as the gladiator’s blood splashed onto the sand. Mark let out a low whistle as Sebastian raised his eyebrows. Getting first blood was always a good sign. The _thraex_ staggered back, glancing briefly at the scarlet gash as the _hoplomachus_ drew his sword. The _thraex_ looked back at the other gladiator with a snarl, putting his shield up as the _hoplomachus_ rushed him, swinging his sword down onto the _thraex’s_ rectangular shield, the metal clanging, ringing across the arena. The _thraex_ pushed him back with a shove, nearly making the _hoplomachus_ fall. They traded blows furiously, egged on by cries of “ _Iugula!_ ”, “Kill him!”.The _thraex_ raised his shield again, meeting with the _hoplomachus’s_ smaller shield. The two pushed against each other, fighting to throw the other off-balance. If he did that, it would mean the opening for a mortal blow. Mark felt his heart start to sink as he watched the _hoplomachus’s_ bare feet start to slide back in the sand, the _thraex_ advancing with each step. Cheers and groans went up as the _thraex_ bashed the _hoplomachus_ , the smaller gladiator being thrown off his feet, sliding in the sand from the force of the blow. Mark winced slightly, but continued to watch with dread as the _thraex_ sauntered towards the prone gladiator. Mark let out a resigned sigh. _Looks like I’ll have to find another one. That’s a damn shame._ He thought to himself, right as he saw the _hoplomachus’s_ hand clench into a fist as the _thraex_ stood over him, raising his sword to deliver the final blow. The _hoplomachus_ was a blur as he threw sand into the face of the _thraex_ , sweeping his leg towards the _thraex’s_ knees, felling the taller gladiator like a tree. The crowd shrieked with excitement as the _hoplomachus_ pinned the _thraex_ , pressing his sword to the taller gladiator’s throat as he struggled beneath him. Sebastian and Mark’s jaws dropped simultaneously. The _hoplomachus_ looked up at the editor, awaiting his verdict. The senator stood up, arm outstretched, slowly pointing his thumb downwards. The cheers overwhelmed the groans now. The _thraex_ stopped struggling. The victorious gladiator pushed the edge of the sword into the thraex’s throat, swinging it out to the right in a swift, familiar motion, blood staining the length of the blade, the severed artery in the throat splashing blood across his chest, staining his helmet. The _hoplomachus_ got up, sheathing his sword, and walking back to the gate he had entered from. 

“Well that was… unexpected.” Sebastian said, somewhat stunned. 

“That it was.” Mark said, rising from his seat. 

“Going somewhere?” Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow. Mark couldn’t help but grin slightly. 

“I have a business transaction to make.” He said, leaving Sebastian alone in the box as he made his way into the belly of the arena. 

* * *

Mark checked the fight register, eyes scanning the list until he found the fight that he’d seen: Drusus Bassus V. Parvus Leō. Mark checked the _lanista,_ groaning slightly when he saw the name, Ascanius Eburnus. Eburnus was a pain to do business with, especially for Mark, but he wanted that gladiator. Mark strode toward where Ascanius’ was set up. He glanced into the chamber. He did not find Ascanius. He did, however, find the _hoplomachus_ from earlier. Mark could see why they called him the little lion, aside from his ferocity in the ring, he looked a bit like a lion. His hair was a wild mane, jaw covered by a dark beard, looking at Mark with bright hazel eyes. He had a wet cloth in his hand, dark and discolored from all the blood that had been wiped off on it. Mark fought to focus on the gladiator’s face, and not trail down to look at his broad chest, slick with water.

“Is your _lanista_ here?” Mark managed to ask him. The gladiator blinked. 

“ _Si_ , but he stepped out.” He answered. Mark was thoroughly enjoying his accent, he’d never heard anything like it. 

“Well then, I’ll return late-“ 

“What do you want, _rudarius_?” A gruff voice interrupted Mark, making him close his eyes and grimace. Mark looked over his shoulder to find white-haired Ascanius standing there, arms crossed. The gladiator looked at Mark with wide eyes. The tall stranger didn’t look like a gladiator, but as he took a closer look at the stranger, he could see faint, but jagged scars over the man’s arms and legs, a pale scratch over on of his sharp cheekbones. 

“Hello, Ascanius. Good to see you too.” Mark replied with a forced smile. 

“What do you want?” Ascanius demanded again, clearly growing impatient. 

“I’d like to do some business with you.” Mark explained, turning to face the older man completely, if a little reluctantly. He couldn’t see the gladiator out of the corner of his eye. 

“Would you now.” Ascanius deadpanned. Mark restrained himself from grinding his teeth together. 

“Yes, I would. Specifically having to do with your gladiator here.” Mark said, motioning behind him to the dark-haired gladiator.”I’d like to purchase him on behalf of my school.” Ascanius barked out a laugh. 

“You mean to tell me you have enough coin to buy Fernando here?” Ascanius said with a smug smirk. _Please do!_ Fernando thought to himself, silently begging that this handsome stranger had the coin to get him away from Eburnus. 

“Sure I do.” Mark replied, sounding completely sure of himself. “What’s your price?” Ascanius’ eyes narrowed. 

“Fifty aureuses.” He said, glaring at Mark once more. Mark shrugged. 

“Deal.” He said, reaching for his coin purse as Ascanius’ mouth dropped open, and Fernando fought to keep a smile from spreading across his face. Mark rifled through it a bit before tossing it to Ascanius, the older man fumbling with it in his hands. 

“There should be a hundred gold pieces in there.” Mark said, a smug look on his face. “Enough for the gladiator, and the equipment.” 

Ascanius looked through the purse frantically, realizing that Mark did in fact have the coin to buy Fernando. Ascanius snorted in annoyance, glare unwavering.

“Fine, take him, _rudarius._ Could barely afford to feed him anyways.” Ascanius muttered, waving Mark away. Fernando blinked, disbelieving, looking between Ascanius and Mark uncertainly. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ascanius snapped at Fernando. “Get out!” Fernando walked past Ascanius gladly after that, towards Mark. Mark smiled at him and nodded down the corridor towards his own box. They were quiet for a few moments as they walked, but Mark glanced over his shoulder, making sure they were out of Ascanius’ earshot. 

“Real nice guy, isn’t he?” Mark joked, looking at Fernando. The gladiator laughed. 

“Not really!” Fernando exclaimed, shaking his head. Mark chuckled in response, turning to face Fernando. 

“I’m Marcus Vebbarius, you can call me Mark.” He said, holding his hand out to Fernando. Mark took his hand, giving him a firm handshake. 

“Fernando Alonso.” 

“Good to meet you, Fernando.” 

_“_ You too.”

* * *

 

For the rest of the week, Mark couldn’t keep his eyes off the new gladiator. Every time he saw him training, Mark couldn’t help but look at him, the way he moved, the way his muscles rippled under his skin. It’d earned Mark a few bruises from his frustrated charges, one particularly feisty _bestiarius_ giving him a particularly terrible bruise on his collarbone. But Mark couldn’t help it, something about that gladiator was driving him up the wall, and it wasn’t any better now that they were here for a set of weekend games, in the Colosseum no less. The last thing he needed was a distraction, but that gladiator had gotten under his skin like no one else had. He walked down to the chamber where Fernando was set up, intent on checking how the gladiator was coming along before going into the ring. He walked up to the threshold, spotting Fernando sitting on a bench, and a younger boy, a servant, from the school knelt down beside him, sorting through some bottles.

Mark leaned against the archway of the chamber, arms crossed, observing the servant and Fernando. The younger boy picked up a bottle of amber oil, pouring some onto his hand and rubbing it between his palms until they were shiny. Mark was familiar with the ritual, he’d had to do it himself before he crawled his way up to a _lanista,_ oiling helped protect the skin and also made the gladiators look more appealing. It was messy, and mildly degrading work, but he couldn’t help but feel faintly jealous as he watched the servant boy start to massage the oil onto Fernando’s tan skin, hands running over the back of his neck, in between his shoulder blades, down Fernando’s muscular back _._ Mark felt something hot rise inside of him.  
“ _Servus.”_ He said suddenly, making the servant and gladiator look at him simultaneously. 

“S-sir?’ The boy asked nervously. 

“I’ll take care of him. Tend to another.” Mark said, stepping into the room. 

“But, the rest already have charges sir.” The boy squeaked. Mark knew what that meant if he didn’t have another gladiator to tend to: not getting paid. He vaguely remembered a young child walking with the boy earlier, a smaller version of the dark-haired youth in front of him. Mark pulled out his coin purse, a replacement from his last transaction, going through it until he found a few gold drachmas. He shook them into his palm, holding them out to the boy, who stared at them with wide eyes. 

“Buy a good meal.” He said with a smile as the servant took the coins from his hand, giving him a look of great gratitude, before scuttling out of the room. Fernando looked up at Mark, raising an eyebrow. 

“Everything alright?” Fernando asked, looking up at Mark. 

“Certainly.” Mark said, picking up the bottle that the servant had been using easier. Mark poured some of it onto his hand, setting the glass pitcher down gently, and rubbing his hands together quickly, the motion familiar to him even after nearly a decade of coaching.

“I just felt like doing this myself.” Mark said, putting his hands on Fernando’s shoulders, letting his fingers brush against Fernando’s collarbone. He could feel the gladiator tense under his hands, coiled, hot. 

“Relax.” Mark murmured, hands on Fernando’s shoulder blades, thumbs pressing down on the area between them, where he could feel Fernando was most tense. Fernando’s shoulders settled back in response, as he sighed softly, cracking his neck. Fernando tried to compose himself, but he was failing horribly, a small shock running through his body every time Mark pressed his rough hands against him until it was a constant pulse. Fernando bit his lip, hard, as he felt a sudden rush of blood, feeling himself swelling against the thin cotton loincloth he was wearing. Fernando shifted in his seat, desperately praying that Mark hadn’t seen, trying his damnedest to hide the obvious rise of fabric in his lap. Mark glanced down at him, a smirk crossing his face at the sight of the tent.

“What’s gotten into you?” Mark murmured into his ear suddenly, voice low, breath hot against Fernando’s neck. Fernando bit back a gasp as Mark’s hands slid around his hips, hands resting almost teasingly against the fabric above Fernando’s cock. 

“N-nothin-hng!” The gladiator grunted in surprise as Mark rubbed him through the fabric. 

“Liar.” Mark murmured, grinning, nibbling on Fernando’s ear as he stroked the gladiator teasingly. Fernando arched his back, bracing himself against Mark, letting out a moan. 

“Harder.” Fernando panted. Mark smirked, sliding his hand down the loose fabric, running his fingers up Fernando’s erection until he reached the tip. 

“Excited, eh?” Mark asked with a smile, feeling how wet it was, rubbing his thumb across the head, making Fernando whine in response. Mark wrapped his hand around Fernando, stroking him slowly at first, and then increasing the pace, Fernando’s hips rocking in rhythm with Mark’s hand. 

“Am going to co-“ Fernando gasped as he felt the release, his whole body shuddering with his orgasm, cum spilling and mixing with the olive oil on Mark’s hand. The heat Mark had felt earlier hadn’t gone away, it’d just gotten worse, spreading incessantly through each and every nerve in his body. Mark pulled his hand away from Fernando begrudgingly, pressing a rough kiss against Fernando’s neck. Fernando could feel Mark’s cock pressing against his back, nearly as hard as he was. Fernando was breathing hard, but still managed a smirk as he turned around, swinging his legs over the bench so he faced Mark. 

“What’re you up to, _parvus leō_?” Mark panted, raising an eyebrow. Fernando simply grinned at him, standing up, grabbing the edge of Mark’s tunic and tugging it over Mark’s shoulders roughly, exposing his torso, tossing it to the side. Mark was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a mix of the heat in the chamber, and the heat of the moment. The Spaniard dragged Mark down to his level, their teeth clacking together as he kissed Mark fiercely, hands running down Mark’s sharp hips as he loosened the loincloth that was slung low over them. Mark shivered involuntarily as Fernando tossed the fabric off to the side, goosebumps rising on his skin, leaving him completely naked. Fernando could practically see Mark’s cock throbbing, pre-cum leaking from the red tip. Fernando got on his knees, Mark’s eyes widening as he realized what the Spaniard was up to. Fernando kissed his way up Mark’s inner thigh, hand running up and down Mark’s leg, before resting his hands on Mark’s thighs, smirking as he heard Mark moan as he licked the full length of him. 

“Fuck me!” Mark gasped as Fernando wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock, tongue licking the underside of it. Mark put a hand on the back of Fernando’s head, fingers tangling in the long, dark curls, resisting the urge to thrust into Fernando’s throat. Fernando moved slowly at first, teasing Mark the same way he had teased him earlier. Mark groaned as Fernando sucked at his base, hands knotting in Fernando’s dark hair. He was going to cum like a virgin, entirely too fast, and entirely too soon. 

“Faster.” Mark begged, biting his lip hard, trying to hold himself back. He cried out as Fernando obliged him, the pressure and speed of his mouth just right. He could feel the pressure gathering and building in his groin, unbearable for even a second more. 

“I’m-“ Mark barely even got that out as he cried out, coming into Fernando’s mouth. Fernando gagged slightly around him, surprised by the sheer amount of it, but he licked Mark clean as he moved his mouth away from Mark’s still erect cock, lazily swiping his tongue over Mark’s still-leaking slit, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, as he looked up at Mark with a smirk. 

“Been a while?” Fernando asked cheekily, rising to his feet. 

“Been a while since anything that good.” Mark panted, running a hand through his hair, staring at the gladiator. In spite of all that, Mark wanted more, and he could tell by the hungry glint in Fernando’s eyes that he thought the same. Mark pushed a stray stand of hair behind Fernando’s ear, cupping his cheek, pulling Fernando towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, Fernando pressing himself into Mark, what little tension that was left in him melting away. 

There was a muffled roar from above them, making them both freeze. Mark looked up, feeling his heart drop into his stomach. The match. He’d completely forgotten about the match. Fernando looked down, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. For a moment he’d been able to forget what he was. He knew it couldn’t last long. He pressed another kiss into Mark’s neck, making him look back at Fernando, stepping away from Mark and towards the armor stand.

“Fernando, wait!” Mark said desperately, putting a hand on his shoulder. Fernando stopped, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Mark. 

“I… I could scratch, say you’re injured, I’ll put in someone else instead.” Mark said, mind racing, looking for every possible solution to keep Fernando out of the ring. Mark saw Fernando’s jaw twitch. He shook his head. 

“You can’t, you’d have to pay back the bets.” Fernando said, taking his manica off the rack and pulling it on over his shoulder, the overlapping metal plates clicking together. He knew the school couldn’t afford to pay off every person who had betted on him, they were in the Colosseum, after all. Mark sighed in frustration, still thinking as he snatched his loincloth off the floor, tying it back around his hips as he watched Fernando pull on the tall chainmail greaves, all with a grave air of resignation. Fernando picked up his helmet last, moving to put it on.

“ _Subsiste!_ ” Mark said suddenly. Fernando stopped instantly at the command, something in the back of his mind reminding him that Mark was still his _lanista_. Mark walked in front of him, tilting the gladiator’s face up towards his. The kiss was long, slow, and Fernando savored every moment of it. Mark pulled away from him slowly, trying to capture everything about Fernando, they way his lips felt, how his body was coiled and rigid yet soft and pliant. They stared at each other for a long moment, searching for words they couldn’t say. 

“Fernando Alonso!” Someone yelled from beyond the chamber, summoning him to the arena. 

“Come back, please.” Mark blurted out, feeling heat rising in his cheeks. Fernando smiled at him. 

“I will, _cariño_.” Fernando said softly, squeezing Mark’s hand reassuringly as he walked out of the chamber, pulling the helmet over his head, and disappearing from Mark’s sight. 


End file.
